Still Figuring it Out
by martianfairy
Summary: In a town where everything was the same for 28 years, a lot of things didn't happen. Some things didn't break, some things were never used, and computer viruses were certainly never an issue. . . This leads to comedic misadventures featuring our favorite, but not so tech-savvy, fairytale friends plus their savior (in more ways than one).
1. How (Not) to Fix a Computer

**A/N:** **Why hello there! Before you read this there are some things you need to know:**

**1.** **This particular story is set the after the (1st) curse ended, and pretty soon after MM and Emma went to the Enchanted Forest.** The reason I didn't put this in the summary is because if this becomes a series of one-shots, the settings might be a little sporadic.

**2.** Oops, I suppose I already spoiled this bit, oh well I'll say it anyways; If you guys respond (review, follow, fav) and show me that you're interested, this will almost certainly become a series of one-shots. I already have some ideas for other stories involving other characters that stick to the same basic premise as this one. . .of course they won't be exactly the same, how boring would _that_ be. On another note, I won't deny that I love to hear your opinions on my stories, so please review and tell me what is good and what could be better.

**3.** Finally, in case you haven't already guessed, I don't own Once Upon a Time; I just absolutely love it.

* * *

'_Congratulations! You've just won 10,000 $$$! Click here to claim your prize!' _

Mary Margaret squinted to make sure she wasn't misreading her computer screen. . .ten-thousand dollars? She hadn't been that lucky since she was—well, since she was still back in the Enchanted Forest! Even more unusually she had done nothing to earn the prize, not even enter a contest; the fortuitous message had simply appeared when she opened up her online browser.

And yet— there was no mistake, she had read correctly. Perhaps some kind soul from outside of Storybrooke sent gifts to random recipients, giving away a sort of. . .happy ending to whomever they could.

If that was the case then who was she to turn down their generosity?

Snow bit the inside of her cheek in a last fleeting moment of doubt. Her mouse hovered directly above the pop-up's 'OK' button. Finally, she smiled softly and clicked.

Then, all hell broke loose.

The computer screen instantly flashed from the Moogle homepage (complete with a cow mascot) into a malevolent black and white frownie face. The speakers blared in a single long _'bleeeep'_.

Mary Margaret just sat there, stunned, staring deep into the pixelated eyes of her possessed computer. For a longer moment than she would care to admit, she did absolutely nothing—just panicked, eyes growing ever wider. Then, as if she was coming out of a trance, the princess/outlaw/school-teacher flew out of her chair and backed nervously away from the laptop.

Something, maybe a memory from the time when she was still on the run, resurfaced in her mind: _If something seems too good to be true then it probably is._

"Charming?!" she called, more out of instinct than anything; her gaze remained glued to the computer even when she had reached the opposite end of the room.

Suddenly, her cry was answered; David came bursting from the bedroom in a full sprint, still sporting his boxers and a white undershirt. . .and a sword.

"What is it?" his tone was urgent, and he quickly went to stand in front of Snow with his blade at the ready —searching for whatever was endangering his true love.

"Umm—" Mary Margaret wasn't expecting his arrival to be so quick. . .or volatile. "I-I think that someone cursed our computer," she managed to spit out.

The solution seemed obvious to David, who advanced toward the laptop and raised his sword as if to split the troublesome device literally right between the eyes.

"Wait!" Snow caught her husband's arm a second before the computer would've met it's untimely demise. "There has to be another way," she insisted, voice teetering on the edge of hysteria. Brand new computers didn't exactly grow on trees, and she was a teacher for goodness sake not a queen. . .well, not _exactly_.

"But, it could be dangerous, what if-" Charming's voice lowered until it was nearly a whisper, "what if _Regina_ did this?"

Mary Margaret softened at the prince's concern and had to suppress a smile as she looked up at him. "David, you know she's trying to turn over a new leaf, and I think that we should-"

"So you're just going to _trust_ her? After everything she's done, a-after all the _chances_ we gave her?"

"What's going on?" a hoarse call rang through the air, and soon Emma came into view—wincing at the bright morning light as she tromped down the stairs.

"Nothing, we can handle it." Snow felt some semblance of maternal instincts kick in as she spoke, but clearly her daughter wasn't having any of it. Emma was going to stay her course—albeit groggily—until she reached her destination.

Once she stopped, smack dab between Charming and Snow, she stared incredulously at the computer while her parents exchanged glances over her shoulder.

"You're kidding right?"

"What?" Charming went on the defense, taking a step back from the now very annoyed looking woman.

"You're computer has a virus, and you thought you would solve the problem with _that?" _she nodded at the sword.

"We, um, thought it was a curse. . ." Snow tried lamely, "What's a- a_ virus_ again?" She assumed Emma wasn't talking about a disease.

"It's something that hackers—er, kinda like internet magicians—make so that-" Emma sighed and rolled her eyes when she saw the blank expressions on her parents' faces, "You know what? Never mind. I'll just fix it."

Mary Margaret noticeably relaxed and David grinned.

"Thanks Kid," were his parting words as he went to help his wife make a morning batch of hot cocoa.

It was all Emma could do not to face-palm at the ridiculous, cheesy, borderline sitcom-esque dramatics she had just witnessed.

But somehow. . .it felt good. No, more than that— it felt like_ family_.

OOOOOOOOOO

That night, Emma was in the middle of installing new anti-virus software to Lucifer (as she had dubbed the laptop), when a curious thought occurred to her.

"Mary Margaret?" she peered around the wall into the kitchen, "How'd you get that virus anyways?"

Snow turned pink, and made certain not to meet her daughter's eyes—she suddenly seemed very interested in the carrot she was chopping.

"Well, I-I thought that I had won, um, a prize. That's all."

Emma held back a snicker, though not managing to stop her grin, and went back to working on the computer.

Maybe her family did have a chance at being a _little_ normal. After all, she basically had to teach her mom how to use a computer. . .

Or at least how_ not_ to.


	2. Re: Love, Self Esteem, and a Brew-Rig

**A/N:** Hey guys! Whew, this chapter took longer than I thought; unfortunately I had to deal with the deadly combination of a busy schedule and a touch of writers block, sorry about that.

Thanks bunches to everyone who responded to the last chapter: Fangirl308, mim0898, Rumidha, thongsong, BanditCharming, Sara K M, meribu, Sonicthehedgewolf, tibetan mastiff, jpepelko, TheMidnightDreamer107, TwilightSVU, Valkubus4everLG, and an awesome guest. If any of you are fellow writers, then you know how much it means when someone takes interest in your story, if you're not, then trust me, it means a lot!

So, on to the **important stuff****: This chapter takes place in the second season, after Belle and Rumple had made amends and before she loses her memory again. **

Hope you like it, and don't forget to review and such!

* * *

Belle glared angrily over Rumplestiltskin's kitchen island at her newfound nemesis, which sat with taunting innocence on the counter. She was still tired and frustrated by her recent struggle with it, but her jaw was set with steely determination.

She wasn't about to be bested by the Brew-Rig 5000.

"Worthless piece of frivolous _nonsense_," she muttered at the single-cup coffee machine, her fury highlighted by her heavy accent. Yes, she was _talking_ to the coffee machine, and thought it was downright reasonable too, after what she had been through.

The thing was, it had all started so _simply: _

After Rumple left for the shop that morning, Belle set off to make her daily cup of breakfast tea. She approached the kitchen, attempting to hum the tune of a song she didn't know the name of, though the result was mostly just a hoarse groan (contrary to common belief, not every princess could wake up and immediately sing a high G). She _had_ gathered that the song came from one of the "Disney" movies everyone kept bringing up. . . Maybe later she could do some research-

The princess shuddered abruptly as her bare feet hit the cold kitchen tile, snapping her attention back to the task at hand_—_

Then she saw it.

Near the stove was her favorite teacup_—_Chip, as she had affectionately named it_—_and next to it. . . A sleek black machine labeled with the words _Brew_-_Rig_ _5000 _in delicate silver script. Also nearby was a rack of strange miniature plastic cups, tagged with the names of various teas and coffees (Belle noted that a copious amount of her favorite tea, Earl Grey, was present), and propped up against the rack lay a note written in Rumple's unmistakable spidery handwriting.

_This world does have it's advantages. Enjoy your tea._

Belle smiled down at the note for a split second before turning her full attention to the gift, which was no doubt left for her. She hovered over it scrutinizingly, noting that it was apparently powered by some form of electricity and that it. . . well that was the thing. There wasn't much else she could tell about the Brew-Rig. Clearly it was meant for brewing tea or coffee, there was obviously a place to put the plastic cup, er, thingies, and there were several buttons with vague symbols that probably had some connotation_—_though they meant nothing to her_—_but other than that. . . nothing_._

So, Belle decided to do what most people would: push random buttons and see what would happen (though she preferred to call it "trail and error").

The first button she pressed bleeped at her, causing her to stumble backwards in alarm and almost knock Chip off the counter. Undeterred, Belle pushed another one; for a moment nothing happened, and she leaned in to see if there was something she had missed. Of course, at that very instant the machine decided to squirt hot water on the front of her dress. She huffed, before remembering the plastic cups and shoving one into what she assumed was it's designated slot.

From there things got a little messy.

Belle was sprayed with hot coffee, bleeped at numerous more times, and even shocked once (long story), but she never managed to make anything resembling her favorite cup of piping hot Earl Grey.

And so, there she was, mumbling incoherently at the Brew-Rig from a safe distance. The whole situation was absolutely ridiculous; she had taken on the _Yaogaui_, she was the "Dark One's" _girlfriend_ for heaven's sakes! Could she really be so easily defeated by a modern coffee machine?

And then it hit her. How had she overcome every obstacle so far? What set her apart from all the other "damsels in distress"?

"_Books__!_" Belle shouted, then stumbled franticly off of her chair and to the entryway where she flung a scarf from the coatrack. She jogged through the front door all the way to the sidewalk with a crazed sort of intensity about her.

The princess had gone about a half a mile before she looked down and realized she was still in her pajamas.

* * *

After a quick change into more suitable clothing, Belle jogged/walked to the library in record time. . . Well, record time_ on foot_. She didn't have the patience to learn how to use a car along with the Brew-Rig.

Upon entering the building, she found herself feeling soothed by the smell of books_—_the sharp twang of glue, the subtly sweet aroma of old paper, and the fresh scent of new paper all mingled together in what happened to be her favorite smell in the world. That alone was enough to clear her mind of what, admittedly, had been a state of hysteria.

_Now, how to fix my problem_. . .

Belle's first instinct was to search her books for a solution to her predicament, however, she doubted there was a book that addressed such a, uh, _specific _problem. That meant she would have to explore new, and possibly dangerous, territory: the internet.

Granted, Belle could always just ask around town to see if anyone else knew how to work a Brew-Rig, which would most likely be the case, but somehow that just seemed. . .wrong. . . like it would be a personal loss.

Besides, the princess wasn't afraid of danger. . . Ok, it also helped that the library was equipped with it's very own computer, compliments of 'Mr. Gold' (it would take a while to get used to calling him that).

So, she strode decidedly to her librarian's desk and logged onto the computer. It actually wasn't all that hard to get on the internet; she had seen Rumple use it a few times, and it was a pretty straightforward process (though it took a few minutes to get the hang of using the 'mouse'). Searching wasn't that hard either, as typing was, despite being a bit slow, simple enough.

The only problem was, there was nothing that explained "How to use a Brew-Rig". There was plenty of material on how to_ fix_ a Brew-Rig, or where to_ buy_ a Brew-Rig, and there was even one post detailing how to turn a Brew-Rig into a microwave. It seemed that everyone in the entire world knew how to use a Brew-Rig. Fantastic.

In fact the situation was so brilliantly fantastic that Belle was just about ready to throw the mouse across the room, followed by the keyboard and monitor for good measure. Instead she just kept scrolling thorough pages and pages of Moogle search responses, sure that, eventually, something useful would appear.

That was when she heard someone approaching her desk.

"Sorry, I'm a bit_—preoccupied_ at the moment. Just tell me when you need to check something out," Belle called to whoever it was, forcing a cheery tone and halfway smile, though she never looked up from her computer.

"Oh sorry, I guess I'll come back later then," a familiar voice replied teasingly; the librarian knew who it was without even looking.

"Rumple!" she laughed, looking up from her research to smile at him, but before long a promising webpage caught her eye. "Just a minute, let me check on this," she urgently began to scan the site she had found.

"Well, I see you've discovered the internet," Rumple grinned smugly, but Belle was too enthralled with the computer to notice.

"Mmm-hmm, give me just one_—arghh, _never mind, it was another dead end. What were you saying?"

"Well, I was just dropping in to check on you, but I can tell you're a little busy doing. . .Uh, what exactly?" Gold was being polite, but Belle could tell he was either worried or frustrated.

_What am I supposed to say? I've been in an epic battle with the evil coffee machine you gave me? _

"I've just been doing a little, uh, research, on_—" _she looked down at the website she had been on for an idea, and said the first thing that stuck out to her "Cups?"

_Stupid internet_.

"Huh, that's very interesting," Rumple replied, feigning belief, "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to know what's really going on." He raised his eyebrows in the universal expression of _'you didn't fool me for a minute'_.

"Well, you see I've been . . .I mean I've just had to_—" _Belle sighed, finally giving in, "I've been trying to figure out how to work the Brew-Rig you gave me."

She shifted her eyes away from Rumple, too embarrassed to watch his reaction. After a long moment, he spoke up.

"I can't believe I didn't think of that," he chuckled, almost like it was funny. Belle wanted to say that _she_ didn't see anything funny about it, but honestly she wouldn't be able to say it with any conviction.

So, she just looked up and asked, "What?" looking every bit as confused as she felt.

"Belle, I can't expect you to know how to work a coffee machine when you've never come in contact with modern technology before, what, around a week ago?" Rumple smiled, "You're doing pretty good just to figure out a computer."

"Wait, so you're not. . . I dunno, _surprised, _or anything?"

"Why would I be?"

That was what really nagged Belle, part of her _wanted_ him to be surprised. She wanted him to tell her that she could do anything, and that a Brew-Rig should be no problem considering what she had faced before. . . She wanted _him_ to believe what _she_ wanted to believe most.

_But the reality is, you don't measure up to who you wish you could be. _She felt tears begin to sting her eyes at the thought, which aggravated her because she at least wanted to _look_ strong.

Of course, Rumple noticed. "Hey_—_hey now, its okay. What's really wrong?"

Belle didn't want to explain herself; she knew she was being irrational, but couldn't help how she felt.

She just shook her head, wiped away a stray tear, and smiled stiffly, "It's nothing, I was just_— _I-I think I'm just going to read a bit now. Love you."

Rumple's face fell, but he said, "Love you too, see you soon," and left, giving her some space.

Belle melancholily resigned herself to a book and tried to forget her problem.

_You're just overreacting. _

* * *

The next morning, Belle slogged her way to the kitchen, fully prepared to make tea the old fashioned way. She sent a disapproving glance toward the Brew-Rig for good measure, but when she did, something caught her eye.

It was another note from Rumple; she went to take a closer look.

_The Dimension Travelers Guide to Using a Brew-Rig:_

_Insert plastic cup, press the biggest button, then the green one. _

_I know you would've gotten it anyways. _

Belle grinned; she _might've_ gotten it eventually, but somehow she was okay with Rumple telling her how to use the Brew-Rig. It didn't make her feel weak or helpless. . . just loved. Maybe there wasn't anything wrong with getting some help_—_

_Well, every now and then._


End file.
